


falling for death

by enkiduu



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-12 14:01:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19133494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enkiduu/pseuds/enkiduu
Summary: When there is blood, oceans run red, because while Stark does not discriminate against who he kills, he makes no deals to save anybody. Resistances form against him. Thanos kills worlds with hope in his voice, generosity in his gaze, power offered in his fist. Stark kills with a vicious desperation, like a man with time running out and no hope left to give.





	falling for death

The galaxy speaks of Thanos and his new follower, the one forged of metal.

This one, who calls himself Iron Man, is young. But he does not follow—he pulls Thanos in new directions. He dares to challenge the Titan, to tell him to speed up the process of saving the universe. This is the man who gains absolute control over entire worlds at a time with such terrifying efficiency that there is rarely even any blood. He’s ruthless, but in a cold way, almost robotic. He does not relish in it.

The Black Order, Thanos’ inner circle, his most trusted followers, knows him under another name. 

It is a strange name, but fitting for all the man’s eccentricities, Proxima Midnight thinks. 

Tony Stark. 

(When there is blood, oceans run red, because while Stark does not discriminate against who he kills, he makes no deals to save anybody. Resistances form against him. Thanos kills worlds with hope in his voice, generosity in his gaze, power offered in his fist. Stark kills with a vicious desperation, like a man with time running out and no hope left to give.) 

He is ruthless and intelligent, and he is more efficient than Ebony Maw. Stark does not like wasting time on either safety or violence. He values efficiency above all, as if he is working on a deadline. In mere decades, Stark has hastened the process of finding the stones, winning them as if he knows the enemy better than their best spies. He originally appeared before Thanos with the Time Stone in his chest, pledging himself to their cause. How did he convince Thanos so easily? How had he convinced the sorcerer of Midgard?

Proxima does not know how Stark ended up with the Time Stone. It had been long guarded by Midgard, and just as well—knowing the location of the stone has always been crucial. Midgard has stayed out of intergalactic affairs. It has never made sense for Stark to have it, but Thanos seems to have accepted it.

Proxima dislikes Stark not for his power, but because he wastes it. 

Lately, Proxima thinks things are worsening. “They’ll be back soon. Thanos has called for an audience again,” she says. 

Ebony Maw smiles. “It must be for the Iron Man,” he muses. 

“How do you know,” Corvus Glaive asks, eyes gleaming with curiosity. 

“He specifically requested to go with Thanos this time. This appeared to be of grand importance to him.” 

Proxima spins her spear idly in her hands idly as they wait for their arrival. “Stark does not know how to enjoy a slaughter when he can wipe out gods with the machines he builds,” she says, sneering. 

“He does,” Ebony says, pensive. There is honey-smooth respect in his voice, but Proxima guesses, from centuries of fighting alongside him, that Ebony does not like Stark either. Stark has displaced Ebony as the intelligence in their Order, because Stark‘s is fiery. He does not pretend, while Ebony prefers subtlety. “We do not see it because he always hides behind his mask when we are saving the galaxy,” he points out, “but these meetings always take place after a worthy fight.”

“You are saying Stark enjoys the violence and power,” Proxima says, feeling a newfound, grudging respect for Stark. 

“Perhaps he enjoys being praised for it,” Ebony muses, sly grin on his face. Proxima can’t guess what’s on his mind, and doesn’t particularly care about the strange competition between Ebony and Stark. “Watch carefully this time, Proxima. The Iron Man is the most dangerous man in the galaxy not because of his quickness, but because he has the attention of the most powerful being in the universe.” 

Proxima tilts her head and waits. All of them incline their heads, welcoming Thanos back from the Planet of Zen-Whoberi. As he strides towards his throne, behind him, Stark lets the red and gold suit slide off his body. Stark’s lips are curved down and his eyes stormy.

“You serve the generous Thanos well, Iron Man,” Ebony Maw says when Stark passes him, reverence sweet like honey in his voice. “That is why he allows you such an honor.”

Stark’s gaze slide onto him, cold. “It’s pleasure, not honor.”

“Ah. So you do enjoy it.” 

Stark blinks at him slowly to show he is not amused, then smirks, eyes sharp. “Squidward, does it bother you that Thanos actually likes looking at me? I had no idea you were so jealous.” 

“I strive to serve Thanos with my mind,” Ebony says smoothly. “It is of my utmost gratitude to be able to do so. I do not seek anything in return.” 

Stark rolls his eyes. 

However weak he physically appears to be, Proxima has sparred with him before. He is stronger than he looks, unfortunately, the technology whirling inside his body making him fast enough to dodge her spear and strong (arrogant) enough to throw it back. 

“You did well, Tony,” Thanos says, sitting back in his throne. He looks pleased. “Come for your reward.”

Jealousy does not become Proxima, but she will never understand why Stark demands this as his reward and nothing else. He wishes not for riches, barely even casting a glance towards the treasures hidden across space, nor for the magic that shivers in Thanos’ throne room. He seeks sex and pleasure, which never lasts.

Stark doesn’t even look like he enjoys this right now. The meetings with the rest of the Black Order present are more recent, only started a few years ago. Proxima wonders what Stark was like when he first arrived. Had he launched himself at Thanos’ bed right away, deeming that the fastest way to power? And how long did that take? Stark doesn’t look like a patient man. Ebony might whisper otherwise, suggesting a long game in which Stark isn’t on their side, but Proxima works off her instincts. 

Pain makes Stark laugh, and Stark laughs quite a lot these days. “I expected something. A friend, of sorts. Never met her, but I heard a lot, so. By proxy,” he says, following Thanos onto the throne, climbing on top of Thanos’ lap. He completely disregards the audience they have, always has. The only performance he puts on is for Thanos. 

“You did not find her.”

“She wasn’t there.” 

Proxima is here for curiosity’s sake, nothing more. She darts her eyes towards Ebony Maw, who seems intrigued, eyes narrowed slightly. 

Thanos puts his hand around Tony’s head, cradling it. Fragile. Thanos should not be so gentle. “We cannot choose who lives or dies, only that it happens, Tony.” 

“Right. Yeah,” Stark answers, and then adds, “I’ve done enough picking and choosing.” There is some dark amusement lurking in his voice, the wry kind that follows the grief that Proxima sees often in weaker beings. “It’s all or nothing, Thanos.”

“It’s half,” Thanos says. “It’s better to save half than to save none at all.”

Stark scowls, frustration settling in his expression as if it’s something he’s always worn there. Proxima frowns, puzzled. She’s not sure she’s seen this particular face before. Granted, she does not see his face very often. “Just—fuck me, come on,” he says, trying to rub their crotches together as he lets the rest of his armor sink back into his bones, revealing only pale skin. 

Thanos’ hands lowering to pin Stark’s hips down, not letting him grind down for friction, eliciting a hiss. “Look at me.” His voice booms, and even though Stark is straddling Thanos, Thanos is still taller, bigger, looming over him. 

Proxima thinks Ebony is angry because Stark is a heretic. She suspects Thanos enjoys the challenge of having to make Stark submit.

If it were up to her, she would break Stark instead of waiting for him to shatter by himself. She knows the red in her hands is violence. She doesn’t need an excuse for killing, she doesn’t share their desire to call it righteousness.

***

“Look at me,” Thanos orders.

Tony snaps his eyes up, a haunted look flashing in his eyes. “What,” he replies. “I see you.” He sees Thanos and he hates this, hates that Thanos isn’t just fucking him directly and ripping moans out of his throat, hates that Thanos isn’t letting him forget himself for just a cursed while. 

Thanos sees it because he always watches Tony intently, less interested in the sex than in watching Tony’s reactions. Of course, that’s not to say Tony can’t feel the growing bulge in Thanos’ pants; that’s not to say Tony doesn’t let out a shaky moan as he thinks about being impaled on the thick, fat cock, stretched past his limits. 

Thanos can probably see that Tony’s frustration is stemming from his confusion over what and how to feel. Clearly, the Soul Stone is bullshit, and Nebula—God, Nebula is going to be so furious that Tony won’t be able to bring Gamora back, she’ll probably try to murder him first thing—

Then again, that is the typical way to greet Tony these days. Tony’s not really any better about the greeting with murder thing anymore, either, the difference is just that Tony doesn’t do trying, he succeeds. 

It’s harder to tell himself he’s not following Thanos’ orders when his actions so far have matched up with what Thanos wants. 

No guilt without proven intent, but Tony doesn’t think those billions of (he just feels numb now) dead people would appreciate that argument. 

Tony’s breath hitches when Thanos starts to stretch him with with a finger, slick from the lube Tony brings around. He suppresses a wince at the sting. Tony already did some preparation before, he had a feeling he would need to, he always does—but Thanos’ fingers are still huge, and—

Tony hisses, pained, shifting so Thanos can get a better angle, but that only makes Thanos pause. 

“Get on with it,” Tony groans. 

Thanos looks amused and taps his free hand on Tony’s chest, over the glowing Time Stone. It takes years of learned habit for Tony to not flinch away because it’s really not as if he can trust Thanos, but the motion makes Tony’s heart speed up. He forces it to slow, forces his insides to remain calm. “You do not order me. Why are you so impatient?”

_Because I don’t follow you._ Tony bites his tongue, not looking away from Thanos, because that would be weakness. It’s not intended to be, but part of this show really—God, it really does turn him on, he’s just that messed up now, knowing that the most powerful being in the universe wants him, and the Black Order bears witnesses to it (he despises them but there’s some sort of warped camaraderie built on mutual distrust, the kind that means he doesn’t have to impress anybody because they’re so much worse than he—) 

Except Thanos isn’t stupid, he knows Tony lies with his tongue just as he lies with his body. Tony does not always want what he says. 

The Mad Titan, despite demanding control, has always had a flair for the dramatics, for the chaotic. He’s lived long enough to want to enjoy a show, even if he won’t admit it, so he lets Tony lie, lets him lie until Tony almost believes himself, because this whole thing has always hinged on Thanos wanting not just to win, but to prove he is right. You need someone left to witness that after the show’s over and everyone’s dead. 

Tony used to do business with Death and he supposes he’s a sellout now. 

“Yeah,” he says. “That’s enough.” 

Thanos groans when Tony lowers himself down on him, slowly, slowly. The stretch makes Tony gasp, eyes tearing up at the sting, at how fucking full he feels—

Tony starts to move, using Thanos’ shoulders as leverage, riding Thanos’ cock slowly because even though he’s not entirely human anymore, he can just barely take it. He can feel Thanos’ pulse inside him, and Thanos is speaking praise in Tony’s ears, and when the angle is just right, all the pain morphs into blinding hot white pressure oh god—

Tony throws his head forward onto Thanos’ chest, gasping, and he feels a huge hand fisting his hair in a mockery of gentleness, and Tony wishes Thanos would be rougher, because Tony thinks if he doesn’t finish this more quickly, if he doesn’t find all the Stones soon, he’ll love Thanos more than he hates him.

*** 

Thanos dismisses the others after Tony comes with a jolt, streaks of white between them. He’s looking at Tony with almost sympathetic eyes, but Thanos’ sympathy is just as warped as his sense of survival and good.

Tony tenses because that gaze means Thanos wants more from him. He probably wants to talk, and Tony is not in the mood for that today. Not… no. He begins to lift himself off of Thanos’ cock with an obscene, slick pop, and white leaks out of him. 

He shudders and stands, letting the armor he stores in his bones slide back around him. It’s messy and he can’t bear to care, just wants to take a shower and wash all the white off his body (and the red off his hands). 

“It would be easier for you if you accepted what you do, Tony,” Thanos says, but he is far more patient than Tony. Tony doesn’t want to change. 

“I won’t,” Tony says. “I can’t.” He lifts his chin, letting the memory of confidence hold his frame up, letting the burden of killing billions of people—half the universe, god—push him forward. He thinks he might be crying, because Thanos sighs and wipes at Tony’s cheek lightly, leans forward to kiss Tony. 

Tony bites Thanos’ lips, tastes blood, and thinks, like this, he could make Thanos hurt. Thanos had not become a god yet, and Tony… he...

“You need not pretend you are alright with it,” Thanos murmurs, looking slightly hurt as he withdraws. “But it is worth doing, and you are strong.” 

Tony doesn’t flinch, but it’s a close thing.

***

“That’s the soul stone,” Tony says, looking over the cliff. “It’s a high price to pay, isn’t it, Thanos?”

Even in his suit, he feels cold. 

The Soul Stone always has been the problem in the other times. The price is so high, and all of the people Tony loves have either died or don’t exist yet. Been killed, so so long ago, so so soon, and Tony cannot risk them again. 

Tony doesn’t think he could make any of them fall in love with him, either, not anymore, not even if he tried. Any love he had received, once upon a time, in another time, is no longer. 

Tony could go to the forties, he thinks. He’s thought about that a lot. He could still have thirty years with Steve, before he has to go. He could get it right, this time. He could take those thirty years again and again. 

But only a monster can love a monster. 

Tony laughs. “Come on, dear,” he says, hysteria edging his voice towards something breathy, he’s so close to sobbing. “This is the endgame now.” 

Thanos makes a pained noise in the back of his throat, like somebody has tried to slice it open. He turns around, tears in his eyes, and Tony really hates him in this moment. Hates himself for wavering. 

“You knew,” Thanos accuses. 

“Sure. I’ve seen it, time and time again.” Tony leaps up and hovers in front of Thanos. He curves his lips up, bitterly, despite knowing Thanos cannot see it. “Gonna push me down?” he asks. Then, he tells him, brutally honest because he can’t stand anything else right now, “I’ll fly. You’re going to have to rip me out of my suit.” 

Thanos stares at him. “Why,” he whispers. “You not care that one of us must die?” 

Tony is here for this. This is the whole point. One of them is going to die, and it has to be Thanos. It has to be, even if this hurts like hell.

Tony hisses, half to himself, “I’ve come so far,” and put his hand on Thanos’ chest. He could push. He has the power. It’s an incredibly long fall, gravitational force off the charts as the abyss darkens, and the Soul Stone promises death from here. 

Thanos doesn’t move, simply glances down at his hand. “We’ve come so far, Tony,” Thanos corrects quietly. “Together. Will you really do this?”

Together. Tony shudders, feeling residual emotions for that word, yearning and loss and regret for what he could’ve had. Instead, Tony had decades with Thanos. Hatred simmers, but doesn’t quite boil. 

Tony is the man out of time, now, time can’t touch him. 

But Thanos has. 

And now one of them is going to die, and it can’t be Tony, because Tony has to live for the half of the universe that’s died. 

It’s not quite fear that seizes his heart, because he’s seen this coming, he’s planned for it. This is something he has dreaded for a long time, now. 

Love. Love goeth before the fall. It will all be for waste if Tony doesn’t love Thanos enough for the sacrifice to work, but if it does? (It does.) What does that make of Thanos?

What does that make of him, to sacrifice someone he loves? 

A traitor. He wonders if Thanos already knew. He wonders if Thanos will let Tony push him, if just to see the Soul Stone’s reaction to the love sacrifice—or the lack thereof.

Tony doesn’t think he has the will to love anyone else after this. He doesn’t think anyone deserves his love, if this is what he’s willing to do.

“Go on, then.” Thanos looks terribly rueful. “I thought in the years we’ve had together, you could be persuaded.”

“I wish you could be persuaded,” Tony snaps, then swallows. “What—what if one of us doesn’t have to die?” he asks. The winds bellow wildly around them, a gathering storm. 

Tony is shaking, tears in his eyes. Tony Stark does not ask for things, does not receive them, either. 

Once upon a time, there had been a cave. There had been a cave, and then drowning. And now, there was this. Them. And later, there can’t be.

“If you truly believe your way is better, then so be it. Snap of the fingers, Tony,” Thanos reminds. “You can undo everything.” 

Tony wanted to hate Thanos more, but he couldn’t. 

He grits his teeth. “Thanos...” 

Thanos sighs. “You always… seemed so eager to find the Infinity Stones, but do not think me a fool. You always have your mask on when we save a planet.” He brushes his thumb gently against Tony’s faceplate where the slit for his mouth was. “Take it off.” His voice is firmer now, an order. 

Tony doesn’t work for him. He has never. Not really. 

He slides the faceplate down, lets Thanos see his tears. 

Thanos cups his cheek. Tony feels the power in his palm, wonders if Thanos is going to throw him down. 

“I can’t save you. I want to, Thanos.”

“You’ve always lived in a state of denial, believing you can save everyone.” His hand drops to his side. “Either way, you can’t.” 

“You’re letting me kill you to prove a point?” Tony asks hollowly. 

“I don’t see why you’re averse to the idea. I promised I would persuade you. I had hoped you would come around.” He sighs. 

“Then what is this?” 

“It is a tragedy to be the one who loves enough to doom the universe. If I cannot kill you, then I have failed, and you will kill me. Dying makes no difference to the dead.” 

Tony supposes it doesn’t. “I’m your death, then, huh? I am become death,” he says bleakly, looking towards the Soul Stone that glows orange. 

“You gave me life,” Thanos tells him. “Now death. I suppose there is a balance in all things, after all.” 

Tony looks Thanos in the eye when he pushes him down, because Thanos deserves that much, at least. 

It’s all Tony can give him, since Tony’s love is never enough to save anyone.

***

Tony falls for a very long time, he falls for the blink of an eye, and when he opens his eyes, starting, he finally sees the sky.

Look, there’s Bruce and Nat and Thor and _Steve_ , and they’re all—oh God, they’re all looking at him like—

And Peter. And Bucky. And Stephen. And—

Everyone.

He did it. They’re back. Tony is back. 

He gets a second chance, and Thanos… gets none.

“You’re awake. You did it,” Steve says, smile on his face, tears in his eyes, so much relief and happiness and Tony hopes he doesn’t ruin this again. “I don’t know what you did, Tony, but the universe—it’s back to before. You fixed the world.”

Tony draws in a deep breath. The air here is much warmer than the air in Thanos’ world. He misses the cold. “I’m not sure how to fix myself,” Tony finally says.

Steve pulls him into a hug. It’s been so long. Tony flinches, then digs his head into Steve’s neck, shaking. “You’re gonna be okay,” Steve promises, emotion thick in his voice. 

Tony chokes on a sob, on a laugh, and decides that at least he has a choice in what lies to believe now.

  



End file.
